Through the Shadows
by tinuelena
Summary: When Peter, Sylar, and Claire are kidnapped, sacrifices are made, and Sylar gives Claire the gift she's always craved: a way to defend herself. As Hiro slips out of time and witnesses an upsetting scene, he reverts to an old mission: save the cheerleader.
1. Volume 1: Evolution

**A/N: **Compliant with all Season 4 episodes up to "Tabula Rasa."

If you've read my fics before, you know that I love getting feedback from readers; I reply to each review, and if you have any suggestions for me, they might find their way in to the story. :)

This is going to be a challenge, since I haven't written fic for a television series before—I'm going to attempt to keep it compliant with future episodes. There are three volumes planned for this story arc.

Enjoy!

xx

**Volume One: Transformation**

xx

Chapter One: Evolution

_"When we embrace what lies within, our potential has no limit. The future is filled with promise; the present rife with expectation. When we deny our instinct, and struggle against our deepest urges,uncertainty begins. Where does this path lead? When will the changes end? Is this transformation a gift, or a curse? For those who fear what lies ahead, the most important question of all_—_can we ever really change what we are?"_

—_Mohinder Suresh_

xx

"I think I'm evolving."

Peter Petrelli, clothed in his usual paramedic's uniform, sat across the table from his old friend Matt in a Brooklyn coffee shop. Slowly, he stirred sugar into his coffee.

"What do you mean, evolving?"

"Just like you did," Peter replied. "First, you could read minds. Then, you could control other people's thoughts."

Matt cleared his throat. "So, you could absorb other people's powers…"

"Now I can just take them." He stopped stirring. "I—it was an accident. I just gave my mom a hug. The next thing I knew, I was dreaming about the future, and she'd stopped doing it."

"You know," mused Matt, "it was like that with Kimiko, too. She inherited her father's power. Kaito could see the variables of any situation and accurately predict the outcome. It's the reason Yamagato's been so successful. Kimiko—when she was younger—it started out as just hunches that one course of action was better than the other. Now she's grown into her ability, and she's given Yamagato more success than her father did."

"You're still in contact with Hiro?"

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet. "Janice and I, we're really grateful for what he and Ando did for us and little Matt."

Peter nodded. "Of course."

"So, your mom," Matt continued. "Is she—is she angry?"

At this, Peter broke into a grin. "Nah. She said she's never been happier. It's given her peace."

"That's good."

"So what have you been dreaming about?"

Peter shrugged. "It's kind of fuzzy. Why don't you take a look for yourself? Maybe you can get me the answer I don't have."

"I, uh… I don't do that anymore."

Peter cocked his head. "You don't?"

"No."

"You don't have it anymore?"

"I still have it. I just don't use it." He stared down at his hands. "Not since Sylar was in my head."

Peter said nothing. Sylar had played a leading role in his first dream. They were in a small room together with Claire—the walls were made of cinder block, and there was no furniture. A silhouette of another man had been visible in the doorway; Peter hadn't been able to make out who he was, but upon waking up, he felt terrified.

The sound of Matt's radio jolted Peter from his thoughts.

"Sorry, I gotta run." Matt pushed his chair back and held out a hand. "It's been good seeing you."

Peter stared at Matt's extended hand. "You're not going to trick me."

"Worth a shot." Matt smiled. "Good luck, Peter."

"Thanks."

As Matt headed back out into the city, Peter heaved a sigh. Inside his head, a little voice nagged at him.

_Deep down, you knew you weren't ever going to be able to live a normal life. There's only one thing to do—find Claire._

Draining his glass, Peter threw a couple dollar bills on the table and pushed his chair back.

There was just enough money in his wallet for a ticket to Arlington.

xx

Claire Bennet sat on a bench outside her residence hall, a slight chill in her bones. She was waiting for a date, wearing her favorite little black dress, but she'd forgotten that October in Virginia wasn't quite the same as October in Texas.

Just as she was about to turn and run back up to her dorm room, a beat-up sedan pulled up to the curb. "Hey!" called the driver.

Claire smiled. "Connor, I'm going to run up and get a sweater, okay?"

"You left your jacket last week," he called back. "It's in the back."

Deciding this was good enough, she slid in to the passenger seat.

"You look beautiful," Connor said.

She smiled. "Thanks."

Claire had met Connor in her Intro to Mass Comm class when they were assigned to do a group project together. The project had been somewhat of a bust—the other two members were lazy and did nothing. But since Connor and Claire had shouldered all the work, they spent a lot of time together, and really hit it off. Tonight's date at the seafood restaurant would be their fourth.

"So, you've never been to a football game here?" asked Connor, pulling into the parking lot of The Galley.

Claire shook her head. "No. First semester has been kind of overwhelming so far. Besides, I was a cheerleader in high school. I've kind of seen enough football to last me a lifetime."

Connor laughed, not catching the darker undertone to his date's statement. He held the door for her, and they headed to a table. "I'll have to bring you sometime."

_Can't wait,_ Claire thought sarcastically, sliding into a booth. "So, have you ever been here before?" she asked breezily, grabbing a menu from the rack on the wall.

"A few times."

"What's good?" Claire stared at her menu for a moment before realizing that a man was standing at the edge of their table. A man with a familiar face and an urgent expression.

_"Peter?"_ she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"You have to come with me right away."

"But—"

Connor immediately grew defensive. "I'm Connor, Claire's boyfriend. You would be…"

Suddenly, Peter seemed to realize that his niece was on a date with a very confused boy. But before he could introduce himself, Claire stepped in.

"This is my _uncle,_ Peter," she explained briskly. "And since when did I officially become your girlfriend?"

"Claire, come on. We have to go. You're in danger."

"What?"

"I had a dream, and—"

Connor chuckled. "You had a _dream?_" He turned back to Claire. "C'mon, you're not really going to listen to this, are you? He's obviously drunk, or high, or delusional."

Claire glared at him.

"My mother can't dream anymore, Claire," he said urgently, throwing discretion out the window. "I can. And I had a dream about you, me, and Sylar."

Claire grabbed her sweater and followed Peter without another word, leaving Connor spouting utterances of protest in her wake.

They hurried into the night. "So you have your mother's power? How did that happen?" Claire demanded.

"I've evolved," Peter explained, as they turned down an alleyway. "I have my dad's power—I can take away others' powers now."

"Life might be a little better if Sylar had that one," Claire mused.

"Theft _is_ better than murder," Peter agreed. "But I don't feel like giving up my brain." He smiled. "So what's with your guy?"

Claire shrugged and wrapped her sweater around herself. "Connor? I don't know. We got along to begin with, but he's just—boring. And kind of an—"

"Asshole?" Peter provided.

Claire smiled, but never had the chance to confirm the label. From out of nowhere, something heavy hit her over the head, and she lost consciousness.

"Claire!" yelled Peter, then fell to the ground himself.

A tall, swarthy man stepped out of the shadows. "Two for the price of one," he whispered in a silky voice, and hefted Claire over his left shoulder.


	2. Volume 1: Change

A/N: A few things…

_First_, I'm so thrilled that so many of you have subscribed and reviewed! :D

_Second_, I will _never _abandon a story. But I don't think you'll have to worry about waiting a long time for updates on this, because I'm excited about the premise here. However, I am carrying 21 credits, so I can get swamped by homework sometimes. I'll try to get at least one chapter out each week.

_Third_, a reviewer brought up a great point: I just want to clarify that **Sylar has his memories back** by this point. This fic is set post-season 4.

_Finally_, thanks to my husband and beta Mark for being awesome and helping me fact-check and edit. :)

Now, to reply to my awesome reviewers:

**SaraCGeorgeBob: **Thank you! I hope you like this chapter as well.

**the s33r: **Thanks so much! I checked out your page: the plot sounds interesting. I'm bookmarking it so I can come back and check it out later. I loved Gabriel/Elle, and I liked Eden, so I'm looking forward to reading. :)

**Becky: **I'm always glad to hear that I capture characters well; characterization is important to me.

**rebelwilla: **I'll try to update regularly… one chapter a week, at least. :)

**DemonxVampirexBitch: **Definitely! I've got three volumes planned and outlined, so we're just getting started. :D

**jremme: **I'm on a never-ending mission to try to make my chapters longer, but I've got Dan Brown syndrome… my chapters are only ever about 4 pages. I'll try to update quickly to make up for it. :)

**Only October Girl: **Sylar, by this point, actually does know who he is… I should have specified that! Thanks though, I'm addressing it in my author's notes this time. :D

xx

Chapter Two: Change

"_For I have but the power to kill_

_Without the power to die"_

_--Emily Dickinson_

xx

"I'm so glad you've come back." The voice was warm, infused with the friendliest of Southern accents. "But this is the third time, and I'm so confused…"

Hiro reached across the table and grasped Charlie's hands. "I am sorry," he told her. "I have lost control of my powers. And Destiny keeps bringing me back here. There must be a reason."

Charlie gave him a bittersweet smile as she fought back tears. "It's just… I'm scared you'll pop right out of my life again."

He didn't respond.

"Hiro?"

His eyes, unblinking, were fixed on the table behind Charlie; he did not twitch, nor smile, nor breathe.

"Hiro!" Charlie tapped his hands.

He made a small bow. "I am sorry. Time seems to freeze me now, instead of the other way around." Halfheartedly, he made an attempt at a smile.

"Hiro, what's wrong?"

He sighed. "We share a fate, Charlie." He hung his head. "I am dying."

Immediately, she moved to his side of the booth and wrapped her arms around him.

"I have a brain tumor," he continued. "And—"

Suddenly, it seemed very bright. Hiro gazed up; the sun beat down on his face.

"Where are we?"

Hiro turned to see Charlie next to him, eyes wide, staring. "Oh, no," he whispered.

xx

Claire woke up on the cold, hard floor of a concrete cell. As her vision cleared, she saw Peter sitting across the room, blood crusted above his eye, completely unconscious.

"Peter!" she hissed. "Peter, can you hear me?" She stumbled across the room and took hold of his shoulders. "Peter! C'mon, wake up!"

He stirred. "Claire. What happened?"

"I don't know," she said, looking for the first time at her surroundings.

Instantly, Peter's eyes widened as he saw the cinder-block walls. "This is the place from my dream. This is—" he looked around, alarmed. "But in my dream, Sylar was here too."

"_Sylar_ captured us?" Claire felt her heart rate quicken.

"No. I mean, I don't know. I don't _think_ so. In the dream, Sylar had been taken captive too—at least he was _sitting _here like he had been."

"Who's powerful enough to capture Sylar? Unless…" But Claire didn't even want to speak her thought. If they were currently sitting in the sub-basement of another company like Primatech or Pinehearst, she was sure she'd go crazy.

The dented metal door squeaked open on its rusty hinges, and a silhouette appeared in the light. As Claire's eyes adjusted, she could make out the dark curls, the coffee-colored skin…

Peter gaped. "Mohinder?"

Mohinder stepped over the threshold. "I'm sorry," he said hastily. "I'm sorry, but I didn't believe you'd come, and I needed you." He held out a couple of blankets and pillows. "Here. I know it's cold."

"You think we're going to help you now?" Claire demanded. "Whatever you want from me, you're not getting it."

"I don't need you," he said quietly, lowering his gaze. "My wife does."

Claire furrowed her brow. "Your _wife?"_

Mohinder nodded. "Maya is ill," he continued, in a low tone. "She's… dying."

Peter's EMT instinct kicked in. "What's wrong with her?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know. She's been to several doctors and I've done some testing of my own, but none of us can figure anything out. She's having intense headaches—sensations that she describes as explosions in her head—and frequent nosebleeds."

"I'm sorry for that," Claire interjected, "but that doesn't give you the right to knock us unconscious and lock us up."

Mohinder's lips flattened into a thin line. "Maybe not," he said shortly. "But one thing these past few years have taught me is that life is not fair, and does not pay attention to who has what right."

"What do you plan to do?" Peter demanded.

"You can absorb powers. If I can reverse your ability, you can absorb powers and then give them to Maya. You can replicate Claire's power and give it to my wife without hurting anyone."

"Give her my blood," Claire suggested hopefully, stepping protectively in front of her uncle. "Pinehearst—they took my blood and healed my dad with it. It works."

"I know they did," Mohinder said sadly. "I had samples at my home. I gave a transfusion to Maya." He shook his head. "It didn't work. In fact, it seemed to make her worse."

"Fine, then. Take me. I can't die or get hurt. If you mess up experimenting on me, it won't matter."

Peter sighed. "Claire…"

"I'm not going to experiment," Mohinder assured her. "I need some blood samples, and a scan of his brain."

"Which will probably show some anomalies," Claire snapped, "since you gave him a concussion."

"Claire. I promise. He'll be all right."

Peter turned to his niece. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you," he said with a half-smile. "I'll be back."

xx

But Peter didn't come back that night, nor the next night.

Claire sat in the cold cell, blanket wrapped around her, trying to absorb the little bit of heat which radiated from the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She could hear the argument above her—

_"I will not allow you to do terrible things to others in my name again!" _

_"No—it's not like that. I'm not a monster anymore, Maya. If I can figure out a way to reverse Peter's ability, he can absorb powers and give them to you. You can heal. You can live."_

_"We don't have the right to do that."_

_"I can't lose you, Maya. I promise not to hurt anyone."_

Silence.

Claire tried to console herself with the knowledge that Mohinder did truly care for Maya and was, at his core, a good person whose intentions were always noble—no matter what messed-up route he took to do a good thing. But he'd never break a promise to his wife, she felt. _He promised Maya he wouldn't hurt anyone. Peter's fine._ She shivered and laid down on the thin cot, closing her eyes to go to sleep.

Her dreams were fitful; images of a pale, frightened Peter spun through her brain, making her toss in her sleep all night. Her conscious frustrations spiraled into her subconscious. Deep within her heart, she knew she was invincible—she couldn't die—yet, she had no way to fight back. She couldn't walk through walls to get out of the cell; she had no super strength to counter Mohinder's terrible power. And, in her dream, her cage grew smaller and smaller, until she was squished into a space in which she could no longer stand up or lie down; and outside was Peter, wan and screaming, begging his niece to help him.

The next morning, Claire was awakened by the loud squeak of the door opening. Immediately, Claire sprang to her feet, the terrible vision of Peter still fresh in her mind's eye. Much to her dismay, Mohinder was only depositing a new prisoner.

Sylar.

She had no idea how Mohinder had captured him, but that wasn't her main concern. Ignoring the killer for the moment, she implored Mohinder for an update. "How's Peter? Where is he?"

Mohinder lifted his chocolate eyes to Claire's, and he looked truly sad. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Peter's gone." And he shut the door, leaving Claire alone with Sylar.

With a cry of anguish, Claire burst into tears. "No!" She beat the door with her fists, screaming in vain. "God damn you! You said he'd be fine! You said you wouldn't do anything! I trusted you! Maya trusted you! And you _killed_ him!"

Sylar watched her from beneath thick eyebrows, debating his move. As she sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face, he moved to sit beside her.

Furiously, Claire wiped her eyes and glared at Sylar. "What?" she barked.

He chose his words carefully. "I could cut the bastard's head off," he said tentatively.

Claire, much to her surprise, found this slightly comforting, but her expression remained a mask of iron.

Seeing that she was cold, Sylar removed his jacket and held it out to her. She glared at him. "I don't want any charity from _you._"

"I'm not the monster you think I am," Sylar protested. He paused. "Or maybe I am. But never to you."

Claire's glower could have set lesser beings on fire. "You cut off the top of my head," she spat.

Sylar regarded her for a moment. "I put it back."

She laughed, an icily sarcastic sound that echoed off the cinder block. "Oh. Oh, of course. You put it _back. _That makes everything okay." Sobbing, she hugged her knees to her chest. "Do you have any idea what that did to me? Yeah, I can't die. But I can't fight back, either. You made me feel more vulnerable—more helpless— than I'd ever felt in my life. You _are_ a monster."

Saying nothing, Sylar gently set his coat over her knees. He found himself recalling the day he'd realized how he felt for Noah Bennet's daughter. Angela Petrelli had put him under Noah's wing as his partner, and they'd shown up at a house only to find Claire in a conversation with the man they were supposed to bring down. Before Sylar knew what was happening, the target— Stephen Canfield— had created a vortex, and the house was on the verge of implosion. Everything was being sucked in to the tiny black hole. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Claire, holding tightly to a railing that was slowly pulling itself out of the wall.

It wasn't out of any conscious desire to go along with Angela's rehabilitation program that he let go of his own rail. Something in him just automatically clicked, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his life would be significantly less worth living if Claire was gone.

And, as he found himself clasping her hands, he knew that nothing in the world could save him—except her.

It was quiet for a long while until Claire started to sob again. And then the sobbing turned into a loud wailing, and an iron ball of cold hatred for the whole world began to form in the pit of Claire's stomach. Peter had been a healer; he'd saved literally hundreds of lives during his time as a paramedic. But he couldn't save himself.

Sylar broke the silence. "This hunger is part of my ability," he said quietly. "To know more. To have more. But Peter—"

Claire sobbed harder. "Don't say his name," she managed, between her tears. "Don't you _ever_ talk about him."

"In the future," Sylar said, "he saw me. I had overcome my hunger. I had a son, Claire. His name was Noah."

She turned, surprised.

"I was making breakfast for him. In Costa Verde. In your kitchen."

"Don't—"

"Claire. You're the only one who can stop me. I know I can beat this for you."

"You're out of your mind. Why would I ever want to be with you? You haven't done anything for me except ruin my life."

"You want to be able to defend yourself, don't you?" asked Sylar.

She couldn't help but lift her eyes to his.

"I have so many abilities, Claire." He held his hands out, allowing orbs of blue electricity to form in his palms. "Which one do you want?"

"What?"

"I can give you one. Do you want the puppeteer's power?"

Claire looked repulsed. "What would I do with that?"

"No one could stop you except me… or Parkman," Sylar said. "Parkman's too much of a Boy Scout. And I promise I will never hurt you again. Ever."

"If you gave me the power, I could make you do things," Claire said in a rush. "I could make you stab yourself in the back of the head. Kill you."

"You could," Sylar said. "But I'm going to choose to trust you."


	3. Volume 1: Power

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They always brighten my day!**

**Mija-Lenron: **It's been hard for me to write Mohinder as an evil character, because I generally like him—but he does have that aspect of his personality that just makes me think that, under certain circumstances, he could be a terrible person. He deserves something hard and unfriendly, indeed. :)

**alias093001: **Thank you! I'm glad you're intrigued.

**twinkledee: **Thanks!

**Midori Blossom: **She doesn't have to, but it looks like she's going that way anyway… :D

**Rissa: **Thanks, glad you like it so far!

**ArghZombies: **I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to say as it goes along!

**xReaderx: **Thanks! I hope I can live up to your expectations.

**em!ly: **I think so too.

**rebelwilla: **Me too! If only they'd hand the writing to us! haha

**Only October Girl: **Awesome! Great minds think alike! ;) Yes, Sylar's spent time at the carnival, but he's wholly Sylar again, mind and body reunited.

**Brynndabella: **Aww, yay… glad to hear it! Happy belated birthday!

**Like A Clockwork Orange: **Thanks for the response, I hope I'm going in the right direction!

xx

Chapter Three: Power

"_And I'm not scared of your stolen power;_

_I see right through you any hour"_

_--'Eyes on Fire,' The Blue Foundation_

xx

"Why are you doing this?" Claire demanded.

"I made you feel powerless," came Sylar's reply. "The only way I can make it right is to make you feel powerful." His eyes burned as he intently watched her face, waiting for a response.

Claire shifted. She was suddenly very aware that she was wearing Sylar's coat over her bare knees. "Alright."

Sylar lifted his finger, and for a moment Claire froze in terror; then she realized that he was pointing to his _own_ forehead.

"Sylar?"

A scream loosed itself from his throat as he cut deep into his skull with his own raw power, filling the cell with sounds of terror. A flashback hit Claire—she was up against the wall, helpless to escape, listening to the sickening sound of part of her skull hitting the floor.

That same clatter of bone echoed throughout the room, and she stared across at Sylar, his brain exposed to open air .

"Do I have to touch it?" she whispered, horrified.

"No." Instead, he reached up with his own fingers to touch the spongy surface.

While Claire was on the verge of vomiting, Sylar was spellbound. "Fascinating," he breathed, letting his fingertips explore. "There it is. I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"How to give you the power."

Her eyes widened. "You just sliced your skull open to find out how to give me a power?"

"Yes. I know how to take. But this is the first time I've given." He reached out. "Give me your hands."

Hesitantly, Claire allowed Sylar to grasp her hands in his. She didn't know why she felt so surprised that Sylar had a pulse in his wrists, a warmth to his skin, rough ridges on his fingertips.

Sylar closed his eyes and concentrated. He'd needed to help Elle to take her power. This was the reverse; he would need to help himself to transfer a power to Claire.

As he felt her mistrust begin to vanish, a surge of faith rushed through him. _She can save me. _The power suddenly activated and began to flow from his fingers into hers. Briefly, he wondered if he would lose it completely; surprisingly, he found the thought of losing a power didn't unnerve him.

_She's saving me already._

The current grew stronger between them, then finally ebbed and stilled. Reluctantly, Sylar released her hands.

Claire gazed at her hands, as if she expected to see some sort of physical change.

"You're cold," whispered Sylar. "Reach for the blanket."

Mystified, she did. It leapt into her open hand. "What—this wasn't part of Doyle's power."

"I didn't give that one to you," explained Sylar.

Fear chilled her. "What did you do to me?"

"I gave you a better weapon."

"…Telekinesis."

He smiled.

Delicately, Claire picked up the crown of Sylar's head and replaced it. Then she lifted an index finger.

Resolved, Sylar faced her. "Do it."

Her finger shook. "Did you really save Peter's life at Pinehearst?"

His voice was steady. "Yes."

"Why?" Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes.

"I thought we were brothers."

Her lip shook. "Is that all?"

A pause. "He was important to you."

Claire burst into tears and dropped her hand. Immediately, Sylar slid over to her and wrapped his arms around her cold, trembling body. She didn't push away; instead, she buried her face in his shoulder and lost control.

Sylar said nothing—just wrapped the blanket around her and stayed close, stroking her hair, letting her tears soak his shirt.

They sat that way for some time, silent except for Claire's sobs, until she lifted her head and furiously wiped her wet face.

"Do you still have the ability?"

Sylar shrugged. "I don't know." He raised a hand; a pillow flew across the room. "Apparently I do."

"You didn't know if you'd lose it?"

"No."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm ready to say it," Sylar replied, and as the words left his mouth, he felt as if he was having an out-of-body experience. "But you're not ready to hear it."

"I'm not?"

Sylar watched her eyes. They were full of innocent hope, and it broke his heart to hold back; but he refused to take advantage of her fragile state. He refused to be a manipulator. "Not yet," he managed.

The implication hung in the air like thick fog. "So," Claire said after a while, "are you going to teach me how to use it?"

"You got the blanket," replied Sylar.

Claire shook her head. "No. To use it as a weapon, like you do."

"You had it right." He motioned to her. "Lift your finger. It's just a matter of precision."

She turned and aimed at the wall, but Sylar reached out to stop her. "Use me."

"What?"

"I have your power, Claire. I can't die. It's okay."

Claire felt a little unsettled by the fact that she didn't really want to hurt Sylar. Forcing herself to think of how she'd felt back in Costa Verde, when she was lying, helpless, on the coffee table, she pointed at him.

"You need to know how it feels to kill, Claire," he said, his voice steady. "If you want to defend yourself, you can't hesitate."

She made a slashing motion. Sylar's neck split open and gushed blood; Claire gasped and instantly ran to his side, supporting his head.

"Sylar?" Claire watched him with scared eyes as the blood kept coming. "Sylar!"

He smiled weakly at her as the wound closed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared."

She remained silent.

"It's okay. You don't have to say it." He sat up. "Do it again. Go for something other than the throat this time."

"No," Claire said quietly.

Sylar took off his shirt and wiped the blood from his neck. "If you learn to mimic what I do, they'll just assume it was me. It would take the heat off of you if you ever had to kill someone."

Claire jumped up. "No!" she said adamantly. "I'm _not_ going to become you. I'm not—" She sighed, her head spinning from confusion. "I'm going to bed."

She laid down on one of the cots and covered herself with the blanket, turning away from Sylar. Every thought running through her mind plagued her. The way Sylar talked so casually about murder; the way he was so ready to give everything up for her; the unsaid words that still floated in the space between them.

The last thing Claire thought about before drifting off to sleep was Sylar, bare-chested, covered in his own blood. She always thought she'd be satisfied at that sight. But something different buzzed inside of her.

Something she was absolutely terrified of.

xx

A floor above them, Mohinder rubbed his eyes in desperation. He'd drained Peter's body of every ounce of blood, storing it in a refrigerator.

_Claire's blood had regenerative powers. If I inject Maya with Peter's blood—_

Mohinder stared over at the lifeless form of Peter Petrelli, then down at the scalpel lying on the table. _Maybe Sylar really has something. If I find the part of his brain that activates the healing power, could I figure out how it works? _

But he knew the tissue was dead by now.

Momentarily, he envied Sylar and his original ability. _If I could only figure out how things work—if I only had Sylar's power, I could save Maya. _He briefly thought about going down to the cell, asking Sylar for help, but his mind told him it would be pointless.

_Sylar's a monster, _Mohinder reminded himself. _He won't help anyone. He can't even help himself._

Pushing the sleeves of his lab coat up, he grabbed a vial of Peter's blood.

_No time to sleep. _

xx

Sylar watched Claire sleep; she tossed fretfully, as if in the middle of a nightmare, and shivered, pulling her thin blanket closer.

He rose, pulled the other blanket from his cot, and spread it gently over her. She quit trembling and nestled into her pillow. Slowly, he reached out, longing to run his fingers through her hair; but he stopped just short, and pulled his hand back. A new sort of hunger swelled within him— one which had nothing to do with stealing powers, and everything with protecting her.

As he went to his own cot and threw his coat over his torso, he made a silent promise that Mohinder would never lay a finger on Claire.

He'd kill him first.


	4. Volume 1: Acquaintance

**A/N: Everyone can thank greatbriton for getting me to publish this in the middle of an ontd_startrek party post.**

**the s33r:** I'm actually still trying to decide about Peter. I don't know what to do yet. And yes, they're all changing… Sylar, Claire, Mohinder, even Hiro will go through his own transformation. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much!!

**Midori Blossom:** If that's what they're insinuating… I LOVE IT. :p I think he'd be fascinated by it too… it seems to suit his personality.

**alias093001:** Yup, I think you're right… Mohinder's probably going to be shocked.

**twinkledee:** Thank you!

**rebelwilla:** I think it's in Claire's hands. ;)

**Only October Girl:** Awesome! That's what I was looking to do… make them more equal. I think Sylar might be scared that if they leave, Claire will run the other direction. Also, they might not be able to get out… Sylar's got powers, but does he have any that would enable him to escape at the moment?

xx

Chapter Four: Acquaintance

"_What doesn't kill you simply makes you… stranger."_

_--The Joker, _The Dark Knight

xx

The small concrete cell flooded with light as Mohinder opened the door. "Breakfast," he announced, and presented Claire with a big, fluffy omelet, a tall glass of orange juice, and a smile. To Sylar, he threw a foil-wrapped breakfast burrito and a bottle of warm water, then slammed the door on his way out.

Claire raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her cellmate, who inspected the burrito with a wrinkled nose. His stomach growled loudly.

"Do you want to share?" she offered automatically.

He looked up in surprise.

"I mean… I wouldn't feed that to a rat." She laughed nervously. "It looks horrible."

"Thank you," Sylar said, pleasantly surprised at the gesture of kindness, and slid over next to her.

Claire raised a finger and delicately cut the omelet in half.

Sylar smiled. "Impressive."

Despite herself, Claire smiled a tiny bit.

"How did you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess." She shifted. "Thanks for giving me your blanket."

"You're welcome."

Claire ate quietly. She saved half of her orange juice for Sylar, and passed the plate to him. "So," she ventured, "any idea on how we're going to get out of here?"

"I don't know," he said around a mouthful of vegetable and egg. "But they could never keep me in Level 5 for very long; I'm not going to be confined to a concrete cell." He took a sip of juice.

"So… how did Mohinder capture you in the first place?" The words came out in a rush; she'd been dying to know, but didn't think she dare ask.

A small smirk appeared on Sylar's lips. "I came willingly."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Revenge. I was going to kill Maya to make him suffer. Then I came here and saw he had captured you. And plans changed."

"How?"

The smirk turned from mischievous to pure evil. "Now I'm going to kill _him_."

Though part of Claire felt like Mohinder deserved to die, her heart hardened against Sylar's murderous intent, and she turned quietly away.

"What, you don't want him to die?" said Sylar incredulously. "Claire, he just killed your uncle—"

"You," Claire spat, "were responsible for the death of both of my birth parents. Shouldn't I want you dead?"

"Yes, of course you should."

"And yet, for some reason…" She gazed down at her hands, twisting together in her lap. "I don't."

Sylar let that sink in for a moment. "That's quite the departure from hunting me for eternity."

"People change," replied Claire, and her words spoke volumes.

xx

Hiro took in his surroundings. They were in the middle of what looked like a nice middle-class neighborhood, and the palm trees in the distance indicated a coastal city. _California?_ he thought. _Florida?_

As he glanced around, looking for a clue, a familiar face rolled past in a sleek black sedan. "The cheerleader!" he exclaimed, and chased after the car.

Charlie, startled, ran after him. "What's going on?"

"It is the cheerleader," Hiro repeated. "The girl from Texas that Ando and I were supposed to save from Sylar."

Claire's car disappeared over the hill.

"I don't understand," Charlie protested. "Who is Sylar?"

"A killer," Hiro told her. _I saved you from him once, _he thought, but said nothing.

They climbed the hill; as they neared the top, Charlie tugged at Hiro's sleeve. "Slow down," she begged. "It's hot. We're never going to catch her."

"A hero must persist," Hiro said firmly, as they reached the top. "Aha! You see?" Grinning, he pointed into the distance, where the black car sat parked in a driveway.

"Okay." Charlie smiled. "But can we slow down now?"

They slowed to a brisk walk as they made their way down the hill, Hiro explaining Claire's power along the way. "Claire is a good person. She can't help me get back to my time," he told her, "but I don't know how long I'll be here. I cannot control when I come and go." Shyly, he looked over at her. "I should probably hold your hand. Just in case we are in a different time and not just a different place. I wouldn't want to leave you and not be able to come back."

With a smile, Charlie reached for Hiro's hand. "No, I wouldn't want that either."

Hiro suddenly stopped short.

"Hiro? Are you okay?"

He pointed to Claire's house, where a dark-haired figure was entering through the front door. "It's him," he whispered.

Charlie squinted, trying to get a good look. "Who?"

"Sylar."

They took off down the hill and ran onto the lawn of Claire's house. Hiro and Charlie crept up to the window, still holding hands, and peered in.

Sylar had his back toward the window. The room he was in appeared to be a nursery; a wallpaper border of blue baby rattles trimmed the walls. Claire was nowhere to be seen.

He bent over and lifted a child from the crib.

Hiro's heart began to pound. "We must do something," he whispered to Charlie. And another familiar voice sounded in his ear.

The smell of new carpet drifted past his nostrils, and he looked up to see Ando.

"What are you doing, crouching on the—_Charlie?"_ Ando gaped as they stood up. "What happened, Hiro?"

"The cheerleader. She is in danger again."

xx

Claire sighed as Sylar finished the omelet. "I'm scared he's going to come back for me."

"Let him come." Sylar levitated the plate and sent it crashing into the wall with such force that it shattered into millions of pieces, dusting the floor with porcelain. "You have your new power. And your old one. He can't hurt you."

"I still feel vulnerable. Even with this power. It's just—" She studied her hands. "There are worse things than dying. And I've gone through a few of them."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Sylar searched her eyes. "Nothing can kill us, Claire. We can only get stronger."

"I've only ever felt weaker."

He turned fully; his eyes burned as he spoke. "He is not going to hurt you. If you still feel weak, I'll make up for it. I will protect you."

Claire felt, down to her bones, that he was telling the truth. She was beginning to understand that he really would do anything to keep her safe. _Anything._ "Just promise me something?" she ventured.

"Of course."

"Don't kill him."

He raised an eyebrow. "What if it's the only way?"

"Don't. For me."

Ruefully, Sylar thought of Matt Parkman's ill-fated sobriety chip. _I pushed him to use his power, and now I'm trying to quit cold turkey. Ironic._

"Sylar?"

"Alright."


	5. Volume 1: Escape

**reneemm: **Thanks! I'm glad you think so.

**Mark: **He will. I love him too much to make him suffer for long.

**Rikku Ree: **I think Sylar just has to find a balance between his Sylar side and his Gabriel side. I've always felt Claire could be the catalyst (no pun intended) for that.

**ArghZombies: **Evil!Sylar could never truly leave. It would be so much less interesting. And as for Charlie, I was even squeeing as I wrote this. lol. I love her and Hiro sooo much.

**alias093001: **You're right. :)

**Only October Girl: **Thank you! I didn't know how it would work out, but I'm glad it did.

xx

Chapter Five: Escape

"_You want me? Well, come on and break the door down_

_You want me, fucking come on and break the door down_

_I'm ready…"_

_--Radiohead, "Talk Show Host"_

xx

Ando shut the door to his office as Hiro and Charlie sat down. "So," he began, "what exactly is going on?"

Hiro launched into an explanation of his quick stops in the Texas past and California future. "It was Claire's baby," he finished. "And Sylar was going to do something terrible."

"What?"

"I don't know," Hiro said, growing impatient, "but it was Sylar! He only ever does terrible things! Destiny could not have brought me to that moment unless I am supposed to do something about it." He straightened. "I must return to the future to warn Claire."

Ando sighed. "Hiro, every time you use your power, you get worse."

"I must save the cheerleader and her baby," pressed Hiro.

Charlie put a hand on his arm. "Hiro, it happened in the future. Can't we just find Claire in the _present_ and warn her about it?"

He pondered this. "Yes, I suppose so."

Ando sat down at his computer. "Three tickets to California, then?"

All of a sudden, he felt resilient. Ando, he knew, would always be at his side. And now, he had Charlie, too. "Batman, Robin, and Bat-Girl?"

Charlie grinned.

xx

Mohinder came that night, his footsteps ticking like seconds on a clock.

Sylar awakened before Claire did. Electricity sizzled at his fingertips as he watched the door, waiting.

The yellow light of the hallway flooded the small room as Mohinder entered. Claire still lay in bed, under the covers; she shielded her eyes as he approached, trying to get her bearings.

"Get up, Claire." Mohinder had dark circles under his eyes, and his usually well-kept hair was frazzled and messy. "I need you to come with me."

Claire immediately turned to Sylar, who had already stepped defensively between them. "She's not going with you," he said.

Mohinder had expected a bit of protest from Claire, but not from Sylar. "Yes," he said, "she is."

"You think she wants to be your sick little experiment?"

The geneticist fixed Sylar with a steely glare. "You have no room to lecture me about being sick, with all the people you've murdered. You've taken lives. I'm trying to save one."

"Talk about hypocrisy… correct me if I'm wrong, Mohinder, but didn't you just kill her uncle?" He cocked his head. "You're just as much of a monster as I am. At least I'm straightforward about what I do."

Mohinder marched up to him. "And what is it that you do, other than cut people's heads open?" Without waiting for a response, he picked Sylar up and threw him into a wall, then turned back to Claire. "Come along."

Claire stared back at the geneticist, whose eyes were now fixed intently on her. "I'm not going," she insisted.

From the corner of the room, Sylar brushed concrete dust from his jacket. The bleeding wounds Mohinder had inflicted spit out chunks of brick and healed themselves.

Sick of playing games, Mohinder approached Claire and picked her up easily by the feet, swinging her over his shoulder like a dead animal. "You don't have a power to stop me from taking you, and Sylar's not going to help," he pronounced. "There's not much you can do."

Claire extended an index finger. "He already did help me," she growled, and sliced into the backs of his calves.

With a howl of pain, Mohinder dropped her on the floor. Her arm twisted grotesquely; she snapped it back into place without a second thought and stood, glaring down at him.

"What happened to you?" demanded Mohinder, clutching desperately at his wounds.

Claire's words were a haunting echo of the ones Sylar had spoke to the geneticist so long ago. "I've evolved," she said darkly. "And right now, I'm going to prevent you from causing any more damage." Her arm shot out; Mohinder found himself pinned against the wall, feet dangling in mid-air.

"We're leaving now," Sylar informed him, as Claire edged steadily toward the door. "Good luck with your next guinea pig." He backed out and shut the door tight, leaving Mohinder sealed in the cell, screaming in vain.

Claire and Sylar turned and faced the stairs together.

"That felt good," she said, after a moment.

Sylar said nothing. The corner of his mouth turned up into a dark little smirk as they climbed the steps.

Mohinder's lab opened up before them as they reached the top, a wide expanse of test tubes and chemicals. Claire stopped short.

Sylar saw it at the same time she did; a body, lying on a guerney, covered by a sheet.

Slowly, Claire approached. She pulled the sheet back and instantly began to cry. It was Peter, his eyes closed in death, his face ghastly pale.

Sylar immediately went to her. "We'll take him out of here," he offered. "Come on."

"It's not right," she sobbed, her voice catching in her throat. "It's not—he shouldn't have died like this—Peter…"

"We've got to go," Sylar urged gently. "Before Mohinder rips the door off its hinges."

As Claire tried to quell her tears, Sylar lifted Peter into his arms and ascended the next staircase.

"What about Maya?" whispered Claire, as they reached the landing.

"What about her?"

"We can save her," she said. They'd come into the living area, decorated in the Santa Fe style, the smells of curry and jasmine mingling in the warm air. The only light came from the hallway; Claire looked meaningfully toward the source. "You can give her my ability."

Reluctantly, Sylar set Peter on the couch and headed toward what he figured was Maya and Mohinder's bedroom. The door was ajar; Claire cautiously pushed it open.

Maya sat on her bed in a nightgown, reading a novel. At the intrusion, she glanced up; upon seeing the shadowy figure in the doorway, she dropped the book on the floor.

"Hello, Maya." Sylar's voice was even.

Maya glared at him. "You." Her voice dripped with hate and fear.

"I'm here to help you." He approached her, Claire following.

She recoiled. "Stay away from me!"

Claire put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," she reassured. "He helped me, too."

"Mohinder!" she called. "Mohinder!"

Amid the tension, Sylar's ability told him that something was wrong. Maya wouldn't be able to rid herself of this with Claire's power. But it would help.

"It's going to hurt," Sylar warned. "But you'll heal." He sat delicately on the edge of the bed and took her hands. Closing his eyes, he recalled a moment on the way to New York, when Maya had truly helped him to forget who he really was. She'd been innocent then, still believing that he was a good person, tarnished only by the monstrosity of his power. As his fingertips tingled, he knew he'd transferred the ability to Maya.

Briefly, an image of a red-haired waitress in Texas crossed his mind. He'd healed her in exchange for information from Hiro. For a moment, he wondered if she was still living— if she and Hiro were still together—and then four words hit him like an anvil. _You will die alone, _Hiro had said.

Claire still stood by his side. _No, _he thought angrily. _No, I will not. _

"What was that?" Maya demanded, breaking his thoughts.

"Let me show you," he said, and retrieved a letter opener from the desk.

Maya pushed him away. "Stop!"

He caught her wrist and brought the letter opener to her palm, making a tiny cut. She watched in awe as the laceration healed itself before her eyes. "_Dios mio," _she whispered. "What have you done?"

"Given you the power to heal," Sylar told her.

"This will… make me better?"

"In a minute, it will." He raised a finger.

Claire's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"She has no powers," Sylar said. "It's not my hunger. This is what I have to do to heal her." And he sliced his finger through the air.

Claire was sure Mohinder could hear Maya's screams resonate through the floor. A thrill of satisfaction went through her at knowing he had to hear it. After all, he'd killed Peter; he _did _deserve to suffer, at least a little.

Sylar bent over Maya's brain and, with the precision of a surgeon, cut the offending cells from the surface. Claire, morbidly curious, watched in awe as the brain reconstructed itself after the tumor had been sliced away.

Dropping the little mass on the bedside table, Sylar couldn't help but give a little self-satisfied smirk at the shock on Maya's face. He lifted the top of her head and set it back into place. As the bone fused together, tears of joy formed in the corners of her eyes.

"How do you feel?" Claire asked.

"Wonderful," she whispered, then turned back to Sylar. "Thank you, Gabriel."

Sylar remembered the last time he'd seen Maya's eyes shining like that. They were in a car together, both fugitives, running into the arms of America. _Gabriel, _she'd said. _Like the angel._

As he lifted Peter into his arms and walked out into the chill of the night with Claire, he thought he'd never feel this righteous again.


	6. Volume 1: Magnetism

**A/N: Just FYI, the name of the story is changing—I initially planned to make each volume its own story, but I've decided to put all three volumes into one… it just makes it easier. You'll now get alerts for "Into the Shadows." **

**  
Volume Two starts after this chapter. :)**

**angry penguin: **Evil Sylar will be showing up soon. Thanks for all the reviews!  
**whosgotyou: **Awesome! Thanks!

**Mark: **If that's the direction the writers are going… but it looks like they're not going to go that way anymore. Maybe evil!Sylar and Nathan!Sylar will merge and create a happy medium.

**alias093001: **I think there's always been that sliver of Gabriel Gray hidden deep inside, wishing to do some good.

**Only October Girl: **I love Hiro and Charlie. I guess there's an entire book telling their story? I saw it on the Heroes Wiki the other day. And yes, this is definitely a side of Claire that Sylar hasn't really seen before.

**twinkledee: **Glad you think so!

**the s33r: **Thanks! I always look forward to your comments, they're insightful and specific. I think using those details makes the world seem more real; I like to flesh everything out as much as I can, and that history seems to help. So says my fiction writing professor, anyway. :)

xx

Chapter Six: Magnetism

"_How do we make love stay?"_

_--Sylar_

xx

By the time Claire and Sylar brought Peter's body to Angela's front step, their breath was visible in the stark night.

"Poor Angela," Claire lamented, "first Nathan, now Peter…"

As they walked down the steps, Sylar watched her face. "What about you? They were your father and uncle."

"They're all she had left," Claire told him. "I only knew them for a few years…" She trailed off, looking out into the distance.

They had reached the street. "I suppose you'll be going now," Sylar said, jamming his hands into his pockets.

Claire stared back at him. "Where am I supposed to go? Back to college? I don't think so. Normal life is a pipe dream for people like us. It's never going to happen."

"People like us," he repeated.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I figured you'd go running back to your father."

Claire averted her eyes. "I don't think that would be the best place for me."

Sylar risked closing the gap between them with a step. "Then what _is_ the best place for you?"

She lingered close to him, inhaling the scent of blood and sweat. "With someone who can protect me."

xx

"We're here," Hiro announced, as they drove past the sign proclaiming _Costa Verde. _"Charlie, do you remember how to get there?"

"Of course," she said, her eidetic memory kicking in, and provided directions for Ando.

As they pulled into Claire's driveway, Hiro felt a surge of uncertainty. Was it really the right thing to do to tell a person about their future?

_Sylar was going to harm the cheerleader's baby, _he reminded himself. _Of course this is the right thing to do._

He knocked confidently on the door, expecting Noah to answer. Instead, an exotic-looking brunette with a book of poetry tucked under one arm appeared in the doorway.

"Hello," he greeted, his accent decidedly French. "How can I help you?"

"We must have the wrong house," Hiro stammered, even though he recognized the brick façade. "We were looking for Claire Bennet…"

A flustered woman appeared next to the Frenchman. "What do you want with Claire?"

Hiro made a small bow. "You must be Claire's mother. My name is Hiro Nakamura. This is Ando—" he indicated Ando, who bowed his head—"and Charlie." She waved. "We are friends," he explained. "We have come to warn her."

"Warn her about what?" The mistrust on her face indicated that she was no stranger to the world of abilities.

Hiro decided to be honest. "Sylar," he told her.

Sandra went pale. "I thought he was dead?"

"No. He is still alive. I have just come back from the future. He was here—in this house—and I think he was about to kidnap your granddaughter."

"My—granddaughter?"

"Hiro is the master of time and space," interjected Ando. "He can travel into the future."

He made a small bow.

"Claire's at college," said Sandra, turning back to Hiro. "But come on in. I'll get you some tea, and you can tell me what's going on."

"Thank you," Hiro said, "but I must tell her before I slip out of time again." He made yet another bow. "Goodbye, Mrs. Bennet."

Before Sandra had time to tell Hiro that her last name had changed to LeBlanc, they were gone.

xx

Sylar's apartment was nothing like Claire had imagined. It was tucked away in Queens, paint peeling off the outside of the building, the hallways dark and smelly, but the inside felt like a cozy home. Bookcases lined the walls. A bowl holding fresh fruit sat on the Formica kitchen table. Chairs and couches were covered with plastic slipcovers. A lone snowglobe sat in the window. It all seemed so endearing, and so unlike the outward personality Sylar exhibited.

"What do you like to read?" Claire asked, wandering over to the bookshelves.

"Instructional manuals," replied Sylar. "Encyclopedias. Medical texts."

Sure enough, she didn't spot a single work of fiction on the floor-to-ceiling shelves.

"It's part of my hunger," he said quietly, almost shamefully. "I like to know things."

Claire turned to face him, and Sylar suddenly became reserved. He felt himself slipping back into his old shell, into Gabriel. "I—I'll get a pillow and blanket," he said shyly, "and I'll take the plastic off the sofa for you—"

"I'd rather just stay with you," she said and, as she moved toward him, she noticed that all the clocks ticked in harmony.

For years, Sylar had wanted this, wanted Claire to accept him for who he was, wanted her to reciprocate all the feelings he had for her; now that it was becoming a reality, he almost didn't know what to do. And she was coming closer, closer…

"I like to read poetry sometimes," Sylar said awkwardly. "Edgar Allan Poe. Pablo Neruda."

"I can't think of a better juxtaposition," she murmured, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

And then he couldn't stop himself, fingers in her thick hair, lips pressed to hers; and her heart was beating faster than all the clocks, and he wanted—briefly—to align every clock with that rhythm, because Claire was the only thing that really mattered. Time was no longer a factor. They were immortal. It was Claire, and it always _had _been, and now that the world had boiled down to this, he knew that being "special" really wasn't that important.

_This. _This was important.

They hit the bed together, and Claire hesitated momentarily.

"What? What's wrong?" He pushed a lock of hair from her face.

"It's just… it's _you._"

"And I'm a monster," he sighed. "I am. But I don't want to be. Claire…"

"You know what? Everything," she said slowly, "everything that I've done while trying to be good or normal has backfired. But you just saved me, and you just gave me a way to fight back; and that's going to be my excuse for this if it blows up in my face."

"It's not going to blow up. Claire…"

His fingertips lingered on her stomach; she trembled beneath him, expectant, impatient. "What?"

Remaining silent, he pushed her dress over her head.

Fingers shaking, Claire divested Sylar of his clothes, taking in the radiant warmth of his body as she did so. The distant figure she'd been frightened of for so many years was inches away from her, breathing and real, flesh and blood beneath her hands, and she was scared of how safe she felt with him. _It's wrong, _her brain sang, but every other part of her drowned out the annoying chorus of negativity.

Sylar kissed her again, languorously, touching her face so softly she barely even knew his hand was there.

"Sylar…" The whispered name escaped her lips involuntarily, and he wished there was a way to capture the sound so he could replay it at his luxury.

He climbed over her, waiting for permission.

"You were right all along," Claire said, tugging anxiously at his leg. "It was only a matter of time."

He couldn't help but smirk. "Is that right?"

"I know what you are," she replied, licking her lips. "I know, and I don't care."

"You only know a fragment of what I am," Sylar whispered.

As he slipped inside of her, Claire lost any self-control she might have had. "Am I ready to hear it now?" she said softly, resting a hand on his back, relaxing into his rhythm.

"I love you, Claire."

She smiled.

xx

After it was over, and Sylar had emptied years of longing into Claire's eager body, he gathered her into his arms and protectively held on to her. They were silent for a while until Claire spoke.

"It feels like you're trying to keep me from running away," whispered Claire with a smile.

"It's kind of surreal to think I don't have to," came Sylar's reply. "I still find it hard to believe you're not running to your father."

She sighed. "I tried to trust him so many times," she said listlessly. "But he's a company man. Always has been. Always will be."

"Your father made me into the monster I am," Sylar said, his voice icy. "I'd taken one life already and was horrified at what I'd done. I was about to hang myself in my shop when Elle came in with a broken watch."

"_Elle? _Elle as in the electrocution girl?"

"You knew her?"

"What happened?" Claire wanted to know.

Sylar held a hand up. Blue electricity sizzled between his fingers. "I thought she was my savior; but it turned out she was just another company pawn, working with Noah, whose only motive was to push me to use my power. To watch me become a monster and destroy my own life—and the lives of others— purely out of curiosity. Without them, I'd have died that day in my shop and never hurt anyone else. I wouldn't have killed my mother. I wouldn't—" His voice broke, and a tear trickled down his cheek.

Claire didn't know what to say, so she brought a hand up and brushed the tear away; then she held him, just like he'd done for her back in the little concrete cell after Peter's death.

"This is the most human I've felt in years," whispered Sylar, after a moment. "Except for the eclipse. I had no power, no hunger… and when I lost all my powers… your father killed me."

"He wasn't there to take care of me," Claire said, her voice hard, "because he was killing you?"

Sylar arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She could feel the tears, hot on her face. "You died. You had to have died right before the end of the eclipse, because you came back."

"How did you—"

"I died," she said. "When Elle shot me. My dad refused to take me to the hospital. And then he left. My mom came to wake me up, saw my bed soaked in blood, and didn't know what to do. So she took me to the hospital. And I died." Furiously, she wiped her eyes. "Vengeance was more important than taking care of me."

"Claire," Sylar said slowly. "You deserve better."

She looked up at him through a cloud of tears.

"I understand the need for revenge," he articulated, carefully. "I understand wanting to hurt anyone who did anything to you."

They both knew the words were ironic; neither one said anything.

"But you deserve to have someone in your life who will put you before everything."

"And that's you?" Claire asked.

Sylar gathered her to his chest. "Claire, I'm ready to do anything you want me to do."

Again, Claire's heart grew cold. She thought of her father and how he tore apart their family, lied to her, to her mother, how he wasn't there when she needed him the most. She thought of how satisfied she'd been when she threw her collection of bears from around the world in a trash compactor.

"Anything?" she said.

Sylar nodded.

She looked up at him, eyes glittering. "I think it's time for our own vengeance," she said thickly.

xx


	7. Volume 2: Spiral

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Life got chaotic for a while.

**reneemm: ** Thanks! Glad you like it.

**DarkWill0w: **He definitely could. What a team they'd make!

**.0o: **They've definitely got some issues to deal with yet. Right now it's just in that beginning stage… I think Claire is just drunk on the idea of giving in and breaking free of that "normal" life she's been trying to live… and Sylar's been craving this for quite a while, so they're still in the intoxicating physical stage. As they grow, we'll see the complexities of their relationship. I am also way more in love with evil Sylar, though nerdy Gabriel is just absolutely adorable. And I'm with you on Hiro/Charlie, I ship them like FedEx. They are just too cute. And Hiro deserves happiness. :D

**Mark: **Don't you think those are the type of books he'd read? and thanks. Because even if Claire does hook up with Gretchen at one point, it's not meant to last. Because she MUST end up with Sylar. :D

**alias093001: **You make a very good point there about Noah creating Sylar. If it didn't cross his mind that, by creating Sylar, he put his daughter in danger, I hate him even more than I did before. And don't worry—they'll hatch one hell of a plan for revenge. Claire's about to turn into Future!Claire, a.k.a. Bad-Ass Claire.

**melissa007: **Thanks!

**angry penguin: **Yes, you definitely do.

**Only October Girl: **I can't wait to write the reactions, actually. :D

**twinkledee: **Thanks!

**the s33r: **And that's where we're headed. The virus may not have gotten out, but Claire's about to turn the corner. :D Thanks for all the great comments… and I'm not going to say anything about Peter. I still haven't decided yet. :)

xx

**Volume Two: Vengeance**

xx

Chapter One: Spiral

"_We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."_

_--Oscar Wilde_

xx

Noah Bennet rolled over to check the clock.

Thick red numbers burned into the night. _4:12._

The sickle moon hung in the sky outside his window, pale and cold, and it crossed his mind that there really was no better symbol for his life. All he had left—all he could hang onto—was a sliver.

As he padded into the kitchen for a glass of milk, he thought about the people that used to comprise the Bennet family. Sandra, his beloved Sandra, had changed her name to Sandra LeBlanc after marrying some obscure French artist. He'd heard all about him from Lyle—how they'd met on her trip to Paris, how he waited just seven months before proposing, how he'd painted a huge portrait of Mr. Muggles as her wedding gift. Of course she loved him. Frédéric LeBlanc gave her poetry, passion, and romance. All she got in her first marriage was lies, deceit, and a badly damaged brain.

Which is exactly what Lyle said to him in the last conversation they'd had. Noah hadn't seen his son since he showed up on his eighteenth birthday to inform his father that he was legally disowning him and taking his stepfather's last name. _At least, _he'd thought, as Lyle slammed the door behind him on his way out, _I still have Claire._

And then, inexplicably, she'd vanished too. After spending so much time trying to help him find a job and patch up his tattered life, she suddenly stopped coming over. Quit calling. Noah had tried in vain to contact her; when he finally got desperate and showed up at Arlington, Claire told him that she couldn't take the pain anymore, and told him not to speak to her again. _Maybe I shouldn't have followed her roommate so closely, _Noah thought, recalling how frightened Gretchen was to learn that she was being followed by a private investigator. _I guess I never really learned how to give people space._

Resigning himself to the inescapable fact that he wouldn't get to sleep, he went to put on a clean shirt and tie. _Nothing to do now but go to work early, _he thought, staring into the mirror at the dark circles under his eyes. _I've always been a company man._

xx

Abby Collins greeted Noah at the door. "We have to talk," she said immediately, and led him into her office.

Noah, nonplussed, eased into a chair and took a sip of his coffee. "What's going on?"

"Hiro Nakamura is back on the radar."

He leaned forward. "Where?"

"A bit of everywhere," she replied, and pushed a file toward him. "Three months ago, he was visiting your ex-wife in Costa Verde."

Noah stared at the pictures, ignoring Frédéric's face in the doorway. "Nakamura… Masahashi… who's the redhead? She looks familiar."

"Her name's Charlie Andrews," reported Abby. "Used to be a waitress at the Burnt Toast Diner in Midland, Texas."

"She has a power?"

"Eidetic memory," Abby explained. "She can remember everything she reads, hears, you name it."

"Give them a green. All three."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "Green? They're high-priority."

"Look. I know Nakamura and Masahashi. They're harmless. And the waitress' power is pretty tame—"

"Tame? You call that _tame?_ Bennet, she can store millions of credit card numbers, social security numbers… she could steal identities—"

"She _could,_" Noah said firmly. "But she _hasn't_. Look. I told you when I got back into this that I wasn't going to lock people up for things they haven't done yet."

This earned a cold glare. "Fine. Then I'll send Oliver to bag them."

Noah sighed. Oliver Packard was a cold-blooded ex-Navy SEAL with no restraint and no conscience. He made Emile Danko look like a puppy dog. "Fine," he relented. "I'll do it."

"Good." Abby smiled as Noah collected the file.

As he left the room, he considered what might have happened had Angela been there. Initially, she was supposed to be involved; once Peter died, however, she renounced anything even remotely close to another Company. Would Angela have been in charge? _Probably not, _he thought, reflecting on how frightened Abby was of these people. He'd practically had to beg her to allow René as his partner. _I've known him for years, _Noah had said.

Abby had simply stared at him. _And I knew Tracy Strauss for years._

It was only after Noah argued his usefulness—the ability to wipe someone's memories—that Abby gave in. _The ubiquitous government cover-up, _thought Noah, smiling. _Of course he's an asset. _

Noah entered his own office. The Haitian was seated, waiting.

"We've got three targets," said Noah, grabbing a tranquilizer gun from his desk drawer. "Let's get going."

"Who are they?"

He tossed the folder to him.

René flipped through the photos. "Hiro."

"I tried to tell her that he's harmless," Noah sighed. "She wouldn't have it."

"I could wipe her memory. Shred the file. She wouldn't remember."

"No." Noah threw his coat on. "The last thing we need is an excuse for her to become even more paranoid. Look—we'll bring them in, and you and I will make sure they don't turn into a torture case or a lab experiment. Alright?"

René rose, a disapproving look on his face. "I thought we'd agreed to be different."

Noah paused. "Sometimes sacrifices have to be made."

xx

"I have something for you."

Claire glanced up from her book. "Oh? Is it an announcement that you're finally going to take the plastic off of this couch?"

Sylar smiled. "No. I'm saving that for a special occasion."

"Ooh." A grin appeared on Claire's face. "You know, I almost sliced it off myself today." Playfully, she raised a finger and directed it at the couch.

"You're going to have to be more precise before I let you go after my furniture," laughed Sylar. "Here. Open it." He pressed the small, rectangular box into her palm.

Claire carefully opened the top. "Oh," she breathed, "it's beautiful!" She lifted a delicately-wrought gold watch from the box. "Sylar," she whispered, gazing at the face.

"It's where I took my name from." He showed her the shattered watch around his wrist; she could just barely make out the letters beneath the splintered glass. "Yours," he continued, "is an antique. One of the first ones ever made. Handcrafted in 1907."

She smiled. "I love it. Help me put it on?"

Sylar clasped the watch around her wrist. "I also have good news."

"What's that?" She curled up as he sat down beside her.

"I'm on your father's target list for next week."

"How did you find out? And why is that good news?"

"Shapeshifting is a useful ability," Sylar told her. "And it's good because, when he comes, we'll be ready." Gently, he stroked her hair, his eyes darkening. "And I'll kill him."

A dark smile crossed Claire's face. "Sylar. I'm not going to let you have all the fun."


End file.
